


(We're) Beautiful

by YellowSpatula



Series: Robbe and Sander - Rode Gordijnen [3]
Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: I promise, It's not a hundred percent depressing, M/M, Missing Moments, Non-Graphic Hate Crime, Non-Graphic Violence, Sander's POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 22:17:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21465430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowSpatula/pseuds/YellowSpatula
Summary: A minute later, you’re kissing him for what feels like the first time in forever.You leave him that day with a promise of a future.WARNING: MENTIONS OF HATE CRIME, VIOLENCE AND HOMPHOBIA
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Series: Robbe and Sander - Rode Gordijnen [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1537438
Kudos: 35





	(We're) Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> AS THE SUMMARY SAYS: THERE ARE MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE, HATE CRIMES AND HOMOPHOBIA.  
Please be careful when reading.

You’re in class that Tuesday, your charcoal crayon following every curve and every line of the model. It’s the first time since Friday your brain has focused on anything that wasn’t Robbe, and Robbe’s lips, and Robbe’s smile. Everything has been _ Robbe, _recently, and now it’s not, finally. 

You’re going to meet Britt after class, finally going to the date you promised her at the beach house. Her messages had gone unanswered all weekend, with you being heartbroken and all, but eventually you’d convinced yourself.

_At least, this way, someone could love you. _

The bell rings, and everyone starts packing up and moving toward the exit. You fall into step with the model, and you make polite small talk until it’s time to part. Just as you step into the hall, a voice stops you. You know that voice, and it’s calling your name. 

You allow yourself a small look back, only to make sure, and when you see that it is, indeed, him calling for you, you turn back around and put more speed into your step. You can’t stop. You can’t let him do that to you again. You _ have _to leave. 

Only, he runs after you. He stops you and asks you if you can talk. As if he hadn’t just broken your heart and everything it was made up of. As if you’re _okay_. He even adds a _please_. As if he can ask you for something -_ for_ _anything - _anymore. You walk away.

In the end, you can’t deny yourself his warm embrace, and the next thing you know, you’re slowly creeping up on him from behind, where he’s losing a fight against the lock of his bike. You give him five minutes, promising yourself to leave in five minutes, _ max. _

Then, just as you’ve almost one hundred percent convinced yourself to run _ the fuck away _ , he shows you how your kiss the other day left him mindblown. You can’t help the involuntary tug of your lips. This boy, _ oh this boy. _

A minute later, you’re kissing him for what feels like the first time in forever.

You leave him that day with a promise of a future.

That Wednesday, a week after your first kiss, you’re being straddled on Robbe’s bed, with his hands stroking up and down your chest, him asking you when you first fell for him. And at his flustered smile, you fall again.

You told him about the problems with your mind - at least, to some extent - and you don’t know yet if his reaction is one you’ll choose to cherish or one you’ll choose to forget, in the future. At least his fingers tangled in your hair makes it better. He always makes it better.

You get together again that Friday, and Robbe doesn’t even blink as he leans in to kiss you on the crowded street outside the bar. Robbe hasn’t even had one beer, and yet he’s still leaning against you and kissing you, even at moments where he shouldn’t. He tells you that he’s drunk on you and your kisses. It makes you feel warm.

His hands has found his way to the inside of your t-shirt, and with a kiss on his ear, you suggest that you go back. Go back _ home. _

And then you’re walking to where you parked your bikes, him hanging off your shoulders. You’re leaning down and leaving your lips on his, and he follows you back up. It’s beautiful. You haven’t ever had a love this beautiful.

Four guys in hoods remind you that your love isn’t beautiful, after all, as they pull beautiful and innocent Robbe off his bike and down to the ground, taking you with them as you try to protect him from their kicks and punches.

You fall to the ground, holding your arms around your head, waiting for them to leave. Then they run away, leaving the two of you in that dark alley on that late Friday night. Robbe’s turned away from you, curled into a ball, when he lets out a sob. You pretend not to hear him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote before Zaterdag 21:35 and we found out that Sander is a fucking asshole (sorry for the expression). I wanted to delve a bit into what Sander felt about their kiss and all that. I thought that he was like, cool and like, a good guy. I miss believing that.
> 
> Anyways. If you want to contact me somehow, or leave a prompt or whatever, please contact me on my tumblr: Orangespatula. Thanks :)


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